


Involved

by GhostGarrison



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Boundaries, Caretaking, Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega!Fenris, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, alpha!hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fenris' heat arrives, Hawke offers to help him through it. Fenris has never had someone to care for him during a heat, and he does hold affections for Hawke... But based on his previous experiences, he's not entirely sure if he can trust the alpha's offer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Involved

It’s been quite a while since he’s had his last heat. An acceptable side effect of the lyrium ritual, if there ever was one.

Fenris has noted that he’s felt off the past day or so—body warm, mind becoming cloudy, movements sluggish even though he handles his sword as deftly as ever. On any other occasion, he’d pin the symptoms down to a cold or another illness. But the slight burn deep within his abdomen is the telltale sign of something more.

When the realization hits him fully, he’s accompanying Hawke, Merrill, and Aveline on a journey up the Wounded Coast. They’re tracking the trail of a Qunari patrol that had gone missing—as an attempt to get in the Arishok’s good graces. A noble objective, one that may prove to be useful in the future.

When the bodily warmth turns feverish, Fenris turns to face the churning ocean. Its waves thrash against the rocky coast, providing a salty mist that cools his skin. The comfort it provides it merely temporary, and the elf knows he must return home quickly to weather the storm out.

“I think that’s the last of them,” Hawke declares, pulling the sword-edge of his staff from the body of a bandit. He unapologetically wipes the bloodied blade on the dead man’s clothes before returning it to his back. “I suppose we should tell the Qunari what has become of the patrol.”

“I do hate being the bearer of bad news,” Merrill adds, falling into step with the rest of the group.

The long trek back to the city slowly becomes arduous as Fenris feels his heat come closer and closer to beginning. Hopefully he can make it to the mansion before it's noticeable to others. 

Or rather… noticeable to _him_.

Fenris’ eyes slide from the rocky terrain to the tall alpha who leads them. Hawke saunters several strides ahead of him, chatting with Aveline in that gregarious tone of his. The words are inaudible to Fenris, his mind is too distracted by more troublesome thoughts.

It’s obvious that his body yearns for Hawke’s, but Fenris knows their relationship isn’t quite to that point. There has been flirtations and favors, drinking and sitting far too close to be just friends, but no further action as of yet. 

Even then, sex and heats have never bode well for him in the past, not with Danarius and the friends he’s shared him with. He couldn’t do that with Hawke, not yet at least. He’s not ready. He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready.

When they return to the outermost gates of Kirkwall, Fenris turns to bid them farewell.

“You’re not coming with us to the Hanged Man?” Hawke asks, lips turning down in a frown. 

The sound of disappointment in the man’s voice pulls at something in Fenris. Whatever it is, it tells him to stay. He shakes his head in an attempt to shake any distracting thoughts from his head. “I’m afraid there is something I must do.”

Within the hour, Hawke is at his door. Fenris answers the knock in reluctance, opening the door just a crack, just enough to see the man. He opts to lean on the doorframe—his limbs heavy and tired, skin feverish—trying to disguise the symptoms from Hawke’s stare.

The movements don’t escape Fenris’ attention—eyes narrow at him, nostrils slightly flare as they take in the new heady scent. “You’re in heat.”

Fenris says nothing, and which is enough of an answer, apparently.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

His lip twitches. “Which would do what, exactly?”

“I…” Hawke says, voice uncharacteristically shaky which catches his attention. “I could help you.”

And there it is, the offer. One that Fenris desperately needs but can not yet accept.

“Hawke,” Fenris begins, mouth dry. “I wouldn’t— I can’t—” He stumbles, words failing him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “My past heats, I… It wasn’t… Danarius…”

A finger is pressed to his lips, hushing him. It’s somehow calming, knowing that Hawke isn’t waiting, demanding for an answer. Especially one he can’t give.

Hawke kisses his forehead with the tenderness he feels he doesn’t deserve. “Then we won’t. Just let me take care of you.”

The statement surprises Fenris, and he almost doesn’t believe it except for that it’s Hawke, and the man has yet to lie to him. He’s never had anyone to take care of him during his heats. Danarius kept him alive during them, took advantage of his vulnerable state and status. Then, traveling alone, he had to weather the storm by himself, hiding himself far in the woods or wherever he could to be far from any possible passing alphas. It was rough, it hurt, it left him pained and drained of all energy. With each heat, he wondered if he would survive the next one. But, perhaps with Hawke there… 

Breathless, he nods. 

The next few days, Hawke stays true to his word. Checking in on Fenris, bringing him water, swapping out sweat-damp bedding for fresh ones, making sure he eats enough. Half-lucid, he has moments of despising himself for allowing another person—especially Hawke—see him in such a state. Desperate, needy, covered in a sheen of sweat.

Fenris touches himself in search of temporary relief, trying not to picture anything or anyone in particular, but a certain bearded mountain of a man keeps coming to mind. The thought of Hawke taking him, dominating him, becoming his alpha is equally arousing and terrifying. He cannot help but to think of his life under Danarius, the only other alpha in his life. It's enough to snap him out of the heat's fog and into numerous flashbacks that feel too real.

How Hawke resists the urge to take a heat-addled omega, he’ll never understand, but can only be thankful for the man’s steely resolve and self-control.

When the heat subsides and Fenris feels more in charge of his mind and body, he leisurely wanders through the mansion, stretching his legs. Though he’s not entirely sure what he was expecting, Fenris is a little disappointed not to find one trace of Hawke in his house. His scent is there, light but present, and Fenris breathes it in, hoping it’ll linger for at least a few more days. The man’s musk stirs feelings deep beneath his stomach, feelings that are not attached to his heat.

The need may be gone, but the desire remains.

Fenris heads towards the front door in pursuit of fresh air, pushing open the door only to be met by another person.

“Fenris,” Hawke exclaims, obviously surprised to see him out of bed. He’s standing just on the doorstep, with a satchel full of fresh bread loaves and cheeses. “It’s, uh, good to see you up.”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you don’t need my help anymore,” Hawke continues awkwardly, pushing the satchel into Fenris’ arms. “I’ll tell everyone you’re over your cold.”

Fenris squints, pursing his lips as he considers the fact that Hawke told the others that he was suffering from an illness. It was better than the truth, he supposes.

When he doesn’t answer, Hawke turns on his heel and stalks back toward the plaza.

“Thank you,” Fenris blurts, not moving from his place on the doorstep. He knows that if he takes a step from his home, he won’t be able to stop himself. He doesn’t add, ‘ _For everything, for taking care of me, for not pushing me._ ’

Hawke turns to face him, a gentle smile blooming on his face. The way he looks at Fenris is so gentle, not at all like he is used to alphas looking at him. “Of course.”

“Maybe—” He can stop himself from moving but he can’t stop himself from talking. The past few days, Hawke has shown incredible restraint, respecting Fenris' unexplained boundaries, caring for him like he would an ill lover. A man he could come to trust with his body, and maybe even his heart. “Maybe next time…”

The other man’s eyebrows shoot up, his tone hopeful. “Next time?”

Fenris nods. “Next time… You could be a little more _involved._ ”

Smiling, Hawke closes the distance between them in two long strides. With a broad hand, he brushes Fenris hair to the side, brushing his lips to his forehead. Even when he pulls away, Fenris feels the ghost of the kiss. He wants to capture it, keep it.

“I’d be honored.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a Tumblr prompt.
> 
> I am not entirely satisfied with how this fic turned out, but here you go.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ storybookhawke


End file.
